THG: A history
by peetapen
Summary: A proposed spinoff story for the books.


**This is an experiment for a somewhat spinoff story for the books. The idea is to make a story of how Katniss' parents meet. This is the primer. If you'd like me to continue it, since this story can stand its own anyway, do tell me.**

**I don't own any of the characters. The plot though is entirely my own. **

**Reviews, critique, violent reactions, suggestions and grammar check are very much welcome.**

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><p>Haymitch scoffed when he saw the man going inside the room he was in. Among the people to see him off the games, he was the one Haymitch wouldn't be bothered to meet.<p>

"What do you want?" Haymitch asked.

"I need you to protect her" the man said.

"And why would I do that?"

"You owe me this."

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><p>Back when bears existed in the meadow outside the borders between District 12 and 13, he was the only one who can kill them. At the age of 16, he was the best hunter there was among the many who illegally hunt to get food on their plates. One Sunday noon, he saw someone being attacked by a bear. A boy probably two years younger than him with black, curly hair cornered in on of the broad trees. The young boy has a mixture of fright and arrogance in his eyes. He thought how foolish the young boy was acting in front of the bear. In order to avoid an attack from a wild animal, the first rule is to become non-existent.<p>

The young man tried to take away the attention of the bear from the boy. Between a deer and a bear, it's hard to take down an enormous beast with one arrow so he always has some reinforcements with his snares. So taking this one particular bear was hard since they were far away from his usual snaring place. But the young man managed it. After about 7 of his arrows puncturing both of the bear's eyes, three on its head and 2 in both of its legs, the bear was disabled. It was a matter of stopping its beating heart.

"You want to do it?" he asked the young boy. The young boy looked feverish from watching the young man kill the beast. But the arrogance in his eyes was still apparent and he looks like a knife in that beast's heart would calm his heart. But the young boy can't do it. One swift movement from the young man's hand killed the beast and he was escorting the young boy through the fence.

"Next time, don't try to irritate a bear when you don't know how to get away from them when they attack you," scolded the young man.

"You don't have to remind me," answered the young boy, irritated. The young man laughed and headed to the hob. With his back to the boy who looking a little bit relieved than he was a while ago, the young man shouted with his back on the young boy, "You owe me one. Remember that Haymitch."

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><p>"I know that. But why her? I don't think I've ever seen her with you. Not with all the girls flocking around you anyway," Haymitch scowled at his visitor.<p>

"Maysilee's like her big sister," the man answered.

"Ah, so the rumors were true. You have your eyes for that little blond girl. Very ambitious aren't you? You do realize that she comes from a merchant's family. An apothecary I might add. You won't even get a mere look from her. And aren't you a little old for her?"

The young man was quiet. He looked like when Haymitch was cornered by the bear—frightened but still, arrogant. Something else was in his eyes was there too, the young man looked bewitched and wild with some strong emotions controlling him. "You owe me this, Haymitch," he repeated.

"Not so brave now are you?"

"Just…please. Do it."

Haymitch didn't answer. The young man turned away from him, looking defeated. He didn't look back at the district 12 tribute.

_You didn't even bother to wish my safety._

Though he was struggling not to, the soon-to-be 50th Quell victor had tears in his eyes looking at the space where the man he treated as his hero all those years had just left.

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><p>This one particular conversation wasn't one of the highlights of the games, Haymitch was sure of it. Maysilee was being rather nostalgic one evening after having a good meal from the salvaged food they got off the Careers pack.<p>

"I'm sure as I lived, I haven't eaten something as good as when I was picked for the games. I think the food is a real advantage even though you'll be dead to savor anything from it," said Maysilee while licking her fingers hoping to taste some leftovers.

"Except when you become a victor and then you'll be so sick of it," Haymitch answered gruffly.

"Why are you particularly gruffly tonight?"

"Am not"

Maysilee looked at him and saw him looking at a particular tree. The tree was very broad and sturdy. Nothing particularly special to it. But Haymitch was boring his eyes into it. Like it was cursed.

"Is there something the tree has done to you?" asked Maysilee, half-jokingly.

Haymitch looked at her with an intense glare. His breathing was rising and he felt himself reaching to his knife. He checked himself in time thinking that the games have enough cameras and vicious Capitol storytellers that killing his own ally would feed them with a very good story. But Maysilee saved him. Just like the young man did.

"I was only joking," said his ally nervously. She put up her hands in made-up surrender. Haymitch closed his eyes and tried to walk away from her a while. He remembered his plan and put away from his mind any close thoughts about that night after he was picked as one of the tributes for the Quell.

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><p>He knocked the door of one of the Victor's home in District 12—the only one with a resident in it. Of course, no one would answer. He knows the boy took on an alcoholic habit, even though he was just barely out of the legal age, shortly after finishing the Victor's tour.<p>

"Haymitch! Are you in there?" the man shouted while trying to look inside the house. He heard a grunt beside him and saw a lump of clothes moving or actually, _crawling._ The young man bolted at once to the lump's direction and helped the young victor to his feet.

"What do you want?" this particular question's becoming Haymitch's greeting after winning the games. The Quell victor struggled through his feet and on the arms of the young man.

"What do you want?" repeated Haymitch, "And get off me. I can walk"

"_Really,_" the man drooled to Haymitch. The young man guided the drunk inside his home which was still taken care of at the very least by a maid. He heard the news after Haymitch's victory that his home in District 12 burst into fire, killing everyone inside without so much of a chance in surviving. Nobody said a word that it was the only house burned in that area. Haymitch didn't say a word about it. Or wasn't allowed to say anything about it. The funeral that was held was a formality and a message to the people that they were at the mercy of the Capitol. Haymitch bore through it all without a tear. He looked indifferent and indignant throughout the Tour. The only apparent grief seen in him was when he started drinking.

"Not even a wink or a bat of an eye. My foot hadn't even set foot on the forsaken platform. No mercy. No pity," Haymitch was muttering to himself, "Why are there trains in District 12 anyway. All who ever uses it is the Capitol. They shouldn't meddle with anyone."

"I'll get back when you're sober," the young man, strong in physical built and with rough hands from mining brought the muttering Haymitch to his bed.

"Don't bother. I won't be," said the 50th Quell victor. The young man looked at Haymitch, snoring into forgetfulness, with his Seam eyes. _One day, _he thinks, _all of this will be over. I hope we all live through it._

The young man stalked off from his young friend's enormous house determined more than ever to have at least one of his dreams come true. He saw the blond girl quiet quickly—she was waiting for him deep in the meadow, where the sunset looks the nicest. The young man's face lit up and for a moment, all his deepest cares were wiped off as he held the hand of the merchant's daughter, unable to promise her anything but a love that he will carry on even through his death.

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><p><em>I'm not entirely sure why I used Haymitch in this but I'd like to think that he liked Katniss because he knows his dad personally. And to put a reason to his drinking habit. If I'm allowed to continue this, I promise this has a reason. And also why this is the primer.<em>


End file.
